


Night Fell Softly

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1998-07-31
Updated: 1998-07-31
Packaged: 2018-11-20 19:19:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11341677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Mulder has an dream about an old enemy, but maybe it's not a dream and maybe he's not an enemy.





	Night Fell Softly

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Night Fell Softly by R'rain

Night Fell Softly  
by R'rain 

* * *

His sleep was restless and fraught with disturbing dreams that he didn't quite remember when he woke. Slowly he opened his eyes and flung the covers off his sweat-soaked body, laying flat on his back. As the breeze from an open window swept across his naked body it began to shiver in sudden uncontrolled bursts. He just lay there, helpless to stop it.

Images still swirled in his head like mad hallucinations. Was he ill? Why was he so warm and so cold at the same time? His hand reached out and pulled the covers back over him; he didn't remember telling it to. It felt as if his every move, his every breath, was not his own. What were these images? Who was the shadowy figure that he somehow knew had been there, beckoning him just out of his reach?

Mulder shook his head and closed his eyes, trying to come back to himself and shake the feeling that he was still dreaming. When he reopened his eyes, his room began to have sharp edges again and the hazy dreamlike quality faded. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he got up and shut the widow. The curtains flapped in an imaginary breeze for a few moments afterwards as he stared out into the empty street below. He couldn't tell what time it was--sometime before dawn was all he knew. The clock next to his bed flashed twelve o'clock, as if mocking him for not bothering to reset it after the last power outage.

The only sounds he could hear were the hum of his refrigerator and the wax and wane of distant traffic. He could have sworn, when he woke, that somehow he had not been alone. That the shadowy figure from his dream had been here, in his apartment, in his room. He shivered again, even though the window was closed, and wrapped his arms around himself walking back to the bed.

He tried to forget. There were times when he tried to forget everything, almost as often as he tried to remember it all. Russia was in his too recent past, and what he went through there was not going to leave him so soon. His past had come back to haunt him yet again, as it had done so often in the last few years.

What was it all worth, in the end? What did he really hope to get after all he had gone through, after all he had put everyone close to him through. Samantha? He already knew that the sister he would get back would not be the same one he lost. She would have changed so much. And even if not a day had gone by for her, he would have changed too much to ever be her brother Fox again. The truth? That was what drove him all right, but sometimes the truth wasn't what he wanted it to be.

Like Russia. The incident was incredible and terrifying, but the truth was that no one would ever know it had happened. There was nothing he could do to change that. It was hard to keep his passion for his work when he had lost so many people in so short a time. The one time he'd thought he'd found a kindred spirit in his work, he turned out to be a traitor and a murderer.

There was still no hint of light in the night sky, but his eyes were accustomed to the dimness of his bedroom. He realized that he had been standing at the edge of his bed, staring into nowhere for a long time. He still felt like he was teetering on the edge of dreamstate and reality, like he had never fully awakened.

"I had a dream tonight." The voice came from the bedroom door, the door that moments ago had been closed. Mulder didn't turn to face it. The voice came from outside the reality he was standing in; it came from the dream side.

"I had a dream too," he confessed. "I dreamed about you."

"I know." His arms were around Mulder's chilled body, warming it, and with a gentle nudge they were on top of the unkempt covers. "You dreamed that we were back in Russia again, that we were back in the dark, dank cell together. You dreamed that I never killed anyone, that I never betrayed you. You dreamed that we made love on that stone floor until the guards came back to take us away. Didn't you."

"You know I did." He didn't wait for more words to come from Krycek's mouth, didn't think about what he was doing. He latched his lips onto Krycek's and didn't release them until his lungs screamed for oxygen. If this was a dream, he didn't want it to end until he'd done everything he'd always wanted to.

Krycek pushed him just far enough away that their lips were no longer touching. "I knew you wanted this," he said. "I always knew."

"Shhhh," said Mulder, "don't talk. Don't talk." His tongue ran along the edge of Krycek's jaw, tasting the thin sheen of sweat that matched his own. There was the barest hint of stubble that pricked his tongue and scratched his skin as he made his way to the soft earlobe. He enveloped it with his lips and tasted it as well, his hands encountering the bare skin of Krycek's back. His back was firm and muscular, the skin slick in places. With a fingertip, he chased a bead of sweat from between Krycek's shoulderblades down to his waistband.

His skin was luscious, and Mulder wished he could taste it all. His lips meandered beneath Krycek's jaw, taking little nips here and there until he reached the first nipple, still soft and circled with a ring of tiny, crinkly hairs. He latched onto it and sucked, flicking his tongue across it rapidly and digging his fingers into Krycek's back. He could feel his own arousal growing from the faint twinges he had felt when he woke to raging need.

Impatience won him over as he traced a line with his tongue down Krycek's abdomen. With a gentle pressure he rolled them over so that Krycek's back was flat against the mattress and Mulder's hands were gripping his shoulders. This body he had wanted to possess for months, years, was finally his, but might vanish at any moment. With a flick of his head, he undid Krycek's jeans with his teeth and nuzzled the hardness beneath him. He didn't want to let go of his lover, but he was forced to as he pulled the jeans down a few inches and released his beautiful cock.

Krycek was silent as he licked it from base to tip, tasting the drop of precum that had already formed. It was all he had imagined on those long, lonely nights. Better. Closing his lips around the head, he slid down until it hit the back of his throat, then paused a moment before opening his throat and letting the rest of it slide down. He felt a crazy urge to weep for joy as he began moving up and down along it's length, feeling it grow harder and begin to throb. To think that he was really doing this was overwhelming. His hands held Krycek's hips, and Krycek's hands slid down his own body to cover them. Krycek squeezed Mulder's hands hard as he began to come, arching his back and tightening every muscle in his body, but remaining silent. All at once he fell back onto the bed and Mulder's lips slipped from his fading erection. Wrapping his arms around Krycek's waist, Mulder lay his head on Krycek's thigh, his nose just brushing against his groin. He closed his eyes.

Mulder woke to the light from his window streaming into his empty room.


End file.
